Babe please choose me

The night air was cool, carrying the faint, sweet scent of damp grass and blooming jasmine. The campus courtyard was completely silent, bathed in the pale, ghostly glow of the moon. The old stone fountain in the center trickled softly, the only sound breaking the midnight quiet.

Mehak wrapped her pastel cardigan tighter around her shoulders, her footsteps echoing softly against the paved stones as she crept toward the fountain. Her heart was beating a frantic, nervous rhythm against her ribs. She felt like a criminal sneaking around after curfew, except her crime wasn't breaking rules-it was falling headfirst into a trap she knew was going to crush her.

And then she saw her.

Natasha was sitting right on the edge of the stone fountain, leaning back lazily with one leg crossed over the other. She wore a dark silk shirt that caught the moonlight and her signature leather jacket thrown casually over her shoulders. She looked like a creature of the dark, effortlessly cool, and breathtakingly dangerous.

As Mehak stepped out from the shadows, Natasha's dark eyes locked onto her. A slow, triumphant smile spread across Natasha's lips.

"You actually came," Natasha murmured, her voice like a soft velvet caress in the quiet night.

"You're crazy for calling me out here at midnight," Mehak whispered, stopping a few feet away, her breath pluming slightly in the cool air. "If the dorm warden catches us, we'll be suspended before midterms."

Natasha chuckled, a rich, musical sound that sent a pleasant shiver down Mehak's spine. She stood up from the fountain edge, closing the distance between them in a few slow, predatory steps.

"Let her catch us," Natasha whispered, stopping just inches away. She reached out, her cool fingers lightly brushing against Mehak's warm cheek. "I'll tell her I needed my favorite marshmallow to keep me company. She'd probably understand. Even the warden has a soft spot for good literature."

"I am not your marshmallow," Mehak protested half-heartedly, though she leaned instinctively into the comforting warmth of Natasha's palm.

"Of course you are," Natasha teased softly, her thumb gently tracing Mehak's cheekbone down to her lower lip. "Soft, sweet, and entirely irresistible once you get a little toasted."

Mehak's breath hitched. Standing this close under the moonlight, with Natasha looking at her like she was the only person in the entire universe, all of Sana's warnings evaporated into thin air. The guilt, the fear, the logic-it all melted away, replaced by a fierce, undeniable hunger for more of this toxic, beautiful attention.

"Why me, Natasha?" Mehak whispered, her voice cracking slightly as her eyes searched Natasha's dark, unreadable expression. "Out of all the girls on campus-girls who are confident, cool, and actually know how this world works-why pick someone like me?"

Natasha's expression softened, just a fraction. Her hand moved from Mehak's cheek to the back of her neck, her fingers tangling gently into Mehak's hair.

"Because everyone else is so painfully predictable," Natasha murmured, her voice dropping into a low, hypnotic purr. "They play games I wrote the rules to. But you? You look at me like I hung the stars, and yet you try so hard to be good. I love watching your walls crumble, Mehak. I love knowing that I am the only reason your heart beats this fast."

The words were pure poison, wrapped in sweet, intoxicating honey. But to Mehak, they sounded like poetry.

Natasha leaned down slowly, giving Mehak every chance to pull away, to remember her pastel cardigans, her strict mother, her safe and boring life. But Mehak didn't move an inch. Instead, she rose slightly on her tiptoes, closing the final gap between them.

When their lips met, it wasn't a desperate clash like in the darkroom; it was a deep, lingering, almost tender surrender. Natasha's arms wrapped tightly around Mehak's waist, pulling her flush against her body. Mehak let out a soft sigh, her hands sliding up to grip Natasha's shoulders, completely losing herself in the taste of mint and the warm, heavy scent of vanilla.

For a few stolen minutes by the midnight fountain, there was no Zeeshan. There were no fake screenshots, no secret boyfriends, no looming scandals, and no warning signs. There was only Natasha, whispering impossible promises of forever into the dark.

And Mehak believed every single word.